


Every Now and Then

by colonel_bastard



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-10 00:23:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colonel_bastard/pseuds/colonel_bastard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk surveys the field with mild disappointment. </p><p>“The flowers are all closed.” </p><p>“Correct, Captain,” Spock affirms.  “The flora of this planet is predominantly nocturnal.  We are here to monitor its behavior during the impending solar eclipse.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Now and Then

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a dual challenge with [raja815](http://archiveofourown.org/users/raja815). In her words:
> 
> Watching William Shatner in _[Incubus](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Incubus_\(1966_film\))_ , we were inspired by his character's line to a love interest; after the two of them witnessed an eclipse, he remarked that they had spent the night together. We thought the line was not only quite lovely but an excellent Space Husbands vehicle, and we agreed we'd each write a fic inspired by it.
> 
> In Raja's fic, [Orbital Patterns](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1142683), Spock delivers the line. In mine, Kirk says it. 
> 
> Title is an abbreviation of the lyric " _[every now and then I know there's no one in the universe as magical and wondrous as you.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lcOxhH8N3Bo)_ "

They arrive on the planet’s surface with a more than sufficient margin of time before the celestial event. To maximize their observational efficiency, the captain divides the landing party into three pairs and orders them to spread out in different directions. He keeps his first officer with him— a decision that Spock considers to be perfectly logical. They have only a short time to find a suitable location for their task. At Kirk’s suggestion Spock takes the lead, and as he picks his way through the dense undergrowth of the forest, he is keenly aware of the captain following close behind. Soon enough they find a wide clearing that affords them an unobstructed view of the sky. Kirk surveys the field with mild disappointment. 

“The flowers are all closed.” 

“Correct, Captain,” Spock affirms. “The flora of this planet is predominantly nocturnal. We are here to monitor its behavior during the impending solar eclipse.” 

The captain was already aware of the purpose of their mission. Sometimes Spock wonders if Kirk asks him questions just because he wants to hear Spock give the answer. 

Before he can mentally pursue that hypothesis, the light around them dims by a slight but noticeable fraction. Kirk instinctively looks up towards the source, then catches himself and shields his eyes at the last moment. Spock doesn’t bother to inspect the sky, instead checking the progress of the eclipse on his tricorder. The daylight begins to fade away. 

“Can’t remember the last time I saw one of these,” Kirk says. 

Spock has no response to the comment and so he remains silent, watching the screen. In his peripheral vision he can see that the world is growing dark. He’s still focused on his tricorder when Kirk gives a sudden gasp of delight. Spock lifts his head to see the field opening up around them, flower after flower unfolding in the cool, dim light of this artificial night. 

“Fascinating,” Spock says.

“Beautiful,” Kirk agrees. 

While the sun sits behind a shadow, Spock takes tricorder readings and Kirk investigates the flowers. The blooms are pale and sweet-smelling, and as the captain strolls about he occasionally pauses and leans down, savoring the aroma. The pleasant scent has nothing to do with the plant’s behavior during a solar eclipse, but Spock has no doubt that it will be the only detail that Kirk remarks upon.

“What a lovely smell,” Kirk remarks. 

Spock arches an eyebrow.

“Accurate, Captain,” he says. “Though irrelevant.” 

Kirk smiles at him. He does this often, and frequently after Spock has stated an accurate fact. Spock finds this to be an odd reaction to simple logic. 

“Of course,” Kirk smiles. “Carry on with your work, Mr. Spock.”

Spock does just that. The event is due to last for only a matter of minutes, and there’s an array of readings that need to be taken in that short window of time. As Spock crouches next to an open blossom to get a better scan, Kirk crouches down on the other side of it, and for a long moment they find themselves studying the same flower. 

Spock’s sensitive eyes detect the change in the light first. Another minute and Kirk can see it, too— the eclipse is passing. They stand in the heart of the clearing as the sun reemerges, first as a faint pre-dawn glow, then growing towards the full brightness of day. Realizing their error, the nocturnal flowers begin to close up their petals. 

“Look at that,” Kirk says. “It’s morning.” 

He gives Spock a sidelong glance, the angles of his face highlighted in gold by the returning light.

“We’ve spent the night together.” 

Spock turns sharply to meet his gaze, as startled by the captain’s words as he is by the effect they have on him. The declaration is completely illogical, of course, yet the sentiment behind it is enough to make him hold his breath for a fraction of a second, his expression rigidly neutral. He is struck at once by the sheer intimacy of the concept, by the ease with which Kirk implies they have participated in it, and by his own satisfaction with the idea. He is unable to explain any of these reactions. It is not a subject he wishes to dwell on. 

“That statement is chronologically impossible,” he says, his voice level and steady. “What has occurred was a temporary astronomical phenomenon. Night has not actually transpired.”

Kirk gazes at him for just a heartbeat longer, before shaking his head with a rueful chuckle. It was the answer he expected, Spock realizes, but not the answer he was hoping for. And sometimes Kirk smiles at him for no reason, and sometimes he seems like he’s waiting for Spock to say something that Spock doesn’t know how to say yet. And even though Spock knows he’s missed the mark yet again, Kirk never seems disappointed. He just smiles and shakes his head, infinitely patient. 

“Well,” he says. “It fooled the flowers.”

The matter is not settled, of course. Kirk will say something else just like it tomorrow, and Spock will once again be left with the feeling that he’s missing some key, crucial detail in the exchange. He can only hope that with enough time he will be able to understand. He has a strange suspicion that Kirk is willing to wait. 

The sun emerges in its totality, the field around them becoming once again dormant. Kirk touches one of the closed buds with a fingertip while Spock completes his final scan, and then together they begin the walk back to the rendezvous point for beam-up. As they move into the forest, Spock takes one last look back over his shoulder. The clearing is wide and green and peaceful, bathed in the light of Kirk’s so-called morning. 

Truly, a lovely place to have spent the night. 

 

 

_________end.


End file.
